


Pyrophobia

by dedicatedfollower467



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fire, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dedicatedfollower467
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko is not afraid. His hands are shaking and his lips are numb and he feels faintly dizzy, but he is <i>not</i> afraid. Not of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyrophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, barely proofread. I've been doing some research on anxiety disorders and Zuko sprung to mind.
> 
> BTW I'm pretty sure this doesn't actually count as pyrophobia. More like fire is a trigger for a flashback/panic attack.

Zuko is not afraid. His hands are shaking and his lips are numb and he feels faintly dizzy, but he is not afraid. Not of fire. That would be impossible. He’s a fire _bender_ , for Agni’s sake. Being afraid of fire would be like a fish afraid of water.

All the same, he wonders if fish ever _do_ fear the water as his legs give out from under him and he sits down hard. Thankfully, no one is watching the disgraced and bandaged prince huddle in the corner. If anyone had been watching, the indignity would have been too much for Zuko to swallow.

As his crew perform katas on the deck, stunning each other with displays of prodigious firebending, Zuko cannot take his eyes away, despite the nauseous feeling in his stomach. He _must_ keep an eye on those darting flames as they leap and twist through the air like venomous snakes, intent on seeking out and biting their victims.

Zuko takes a moment to breathe, swallowing hard against the bile that is rising in his throat, and ignoring the flare of phantom pain from the left side of his face. He is too full of the healers’ medicine to actually be feeling much hurt, and therefore the flashes of heat are psychological, a memory only. Touching a bandaged ear, he shakes his head, putting the thoughts out of his mind. And yet he still cannot bear to pull his eyes away from the fires.

Candles, he can handle. The small fires his Uncle uses to heat his tea are fine. Even the warm hearth fires and large cooking fires that they keep on the ship are fine.

But those gigantic firebending flares, the _sound_ of them, whooshing through the air, a roaring inferno ready to blaze into searing agony at any moment – those, he cannot watch without the creeping fear running up his spine, chilling even his inner fire to ashes.

He has not tried bending since his exile. Perhaps it would be more correct to say he has not tried bending since his father burned him – but no, he will not say that.

A shape looms in front of him, huge and dark and somehow powerful, and that is the moment that sets it off.

Zuko can’t _breathe,_ the fundamentals of life itself have been robbed from him and he gasps for breath as the flames steal the air from his very lungs. Winces away from the huge figure in front of him, ready to burn and to sear and the smell of burning flesh and hair is heavy in his nostrils and he cannot see out of the other eye. His body is shaking and there is not a sound but the deep and ominous rush of fire and the frightened pattering of his own heart.

A hand descends to his shoulder and a small break enters the illusion, because in reality there had been no one. No touch had lifted him out of the darkness and flames and pain, there had been nothing but himself and the agony and the hard ground, unforgiving in its relentless heat. The hand is enough to change that memory, and he clutches at it, struggling to get his breathing back under control.

“Deep breaths, Prince Zuko,” says a low, calming voice. “In and out. You are safe. You are on the deck of the ship, and Lieutenant Jee and some of the men are practicing their firebending. No one is going to hurt you here. You are among allies.”

_Uncle_ , Zuko thinks, grateful in that moment for the general’s measured voice and the steady pressure of his hand against Zuko’s shoulder. It takes him much longer than ideal to get his breath back under control, though he knows now that he is not – not back _there,_ not facing down…

He breathes deeply in time with his uncle’s steady inhales and exhales, refusing to think about it. When he is finally back under control – breathing a little bit more heavily than usual, but that is hardly surprising, he risks looking back up at the deck.

The men have stopped firebending. Instead they peer at him, brows furrowed. Zuko can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and this time it is an entirely different sort of heat. He throws Iroh’s hand off his shoulder like it’s a rotting piece of meat and stands, wordlessly heading to his cabin.

When he makes it there the first thing he does is lock the door. Then he lets himself collapse to the floor and the tears start leaking from his uncovered eye.

Zuko is a _fool_ and a _coward_ and a _failure_ and he cannot believe that he just broke down like that in front of his crew. He had displayed shameful weakness to them, and it would be a wonder if he could ever earn their respect. From now on he must be absolutely perfect, a paragon of ruthless efficiency, the harshest taskmaster. After a scene like that, he would have to force them to listen to him, to become their master.

And if he was going to master his crew, he must first master himself. Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, he held out his hand, willing the fire to come.

A spark, too bright, and it was out in an instant as his heartbeat thudded. But no, he would not fear himself, he would not fear the flame. His own fire couldn’t hurt him. Zuko wouldn’t let it.

Once again, Zuko forced his fire to the surface, watching through a slitted eye as the little tongue of flame flickered and threatened to die. _Why_ was he never good enough, he was a stupid, rotten, _idiotic_ …

As he turned his inner vitriol on himself, the little fire flared up, and Zuko stared at it. Was that the secret then? Could he use his anger to avoid the fear?

He would have to. And so, he did.


End file.
